


Sapphire Redemption

by Ireg



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Akamatsu Kaede Lives, F/F, Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love/Hate, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:41:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17963372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireg/pseuds/Ireg
Summary: Kaede wakes up on an island paradise after her supposed death- to her victim, with more questions than grains of sand on a beach and more guilt than drops of water in the ocean.Later, her equal and opposite arrives, just as broken.-Reuploaded because I forgot a huge portion of this first chapter somehow. Kaemugi, but more about the characters than the ship itself.





	1. The song

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! I love them.
> 
> Yeah, this was reuploaded. Sorry, but I missed a part of the first chapter that kinda just made it confusing, and had to give it a fresh chance, considering how.. Bad that last draft was without that piece.

Of all the ways to go, I had to have gotten one of the cruelest; not to downplay anyone who is burned alive, or stoned, or tortured….

But that entire execution was just a grand show- No, that’s downplaying what a show even is. Shows are for the people, shows give you insight into the world, and people, and… They’re just so human. Although i’m a musician, I can still appreciate drama, or comedy, or… Magic, or whatever.

It’s not a show at all- just a farce. A farce to make my entire existence, my whole life… All my choices, all the little black lines i’ve chosen to follow like notes on a page, a huge joke. Hung on a piano, booed and stoned by a crowd while I cant even play the flea waltz correctly. Whoever came up with it must have spent days trying to get every detail correct, maximising emotional and physical pain not just for me, but for the crowd watching me- They were so small from my view, just little blurs not helped by the black ouroboros beginning to devour my vision as my life slipped away, but I swore I could see every detail of Shuichi’s face.

But I deserved it. They didn’t deserve to watch it, but I deserved to experience it. I killed the peace, I broke my promise… I went in opposition to everything I said I was, because I was foolish and brave enough to think that I could do it all by myself. I made a mockery of everything, my ideology and mantras distorted like playing a song backwards.

And yet…

And yet…

Here I am.

* * *

 

  
I didn’t have much time to think about exactly what awaited me after I had accepted my death: not while in the trial, while I puzzled about the perfect way to damn myself while trying to trap the devil I had failed to once before; And certainly not while it felt like my whole mind was growing progressively out of tune, while my entire world was rocked to the tune of that horrible playing- going from something easily discernible (If pathetic, and irredeemable) to just a garbled jumble of sounds, the cacophony of consciousness bleeding out like black ink spilling into a pool of water.

Even earlier in the killing game, I kept an optimism about me, forcing myself to not think over the possibility of death. But there have been times in my life where, like every person- I’ve contemplated what would come after, whether it be heaven, or… Reincarnation, or something else.

But I certainly didn’t expect for the first thing to hear after my apparent departure from reality to be the crashing of waves, the gentle strumming of a guitar, and the creaking of a ceiling fan.

It was a befuddling confusion of senses, the comfort not only of a musician, hearing gentle and milky tones that melted into my soul- But also of the entire atmosphere I could almost fully experience without even opening my eyes; of soft linen, a gentle breeze, waves like another layer to the song I was hearing, and of the sun partially warming a side of my face.

Contrasting all of that, which felt like pure bliss- Was the confusion of a transition from a world of hell on earth to this one, seemingly an odd form of heaven, and the old remnants of hell still stuck in it. A great pain around my throat, all too familiar, and an aching coming from all parts of my mouth, throat, and lungs.

I couldn’t even comprehend all of it: so I didn't. I just… Let my mind settle, just taking in the sounds, because every other sense just felt like a taint on this moment.

The voice singing along the guitar and the ocean was one I recognized as Rantaro’s- But without all the grief and pain that surrounded the letters of it, painted by my own mistakes in tender little strokes of pink. My mind couldn’t even begin to put all that together, only taking to remember what it could- His smile, his laugh, how at times he seemed like an older brother or a great friend in another life.

> _“There are loved ones in the glory_  
>  _Whose dear forms you often miss._  
>  _When you close your earthly story,_  
>  _Will you join them in their bliss?”_

Something in my mind remembered the song: as a musician, it was just one of a thousand I had heard… But like an individual perfect flower in an entire field, I remembered it just as dearly. Each tender note, each little touch each singer put to it- Rantaro was surprisingly tender and emotional, a brilliant singer: I never would have expected that.

> _“Will the circle be unbroken_  
>  _By and by, by and by?_  
>  _Is a better home awaiting_  
>  _In the sky, in the sky?”_

Even if I wasn’t a singer myself, and my pieces were often different to those spoken… I could still appreciate everything about this. The way each word seemed to imprint on part of my heart, more notes on a red blot already stained by them. In this confused state, there was no question about it anymore- I felt as if I was in heaven. It just seemed to… Fit so perfectly, with this song, and my guilt and loathing couldn’t remind me I didn’t deserve anything like that, couldn’t remind me that I was listening to a soul I had killed, that no god would be unjust enough to let this pass.

> _“In the joyous days of childhood_  
>  _Oft they told of wondrous love_  
>  _Pointed to the dying Saviour;_  
>  _Now they dwell with Him above.”_

The words and sweet melody washed away the pain around my throat and my heart like the sea washing away sandcastles, if only for a time. I could only see the most blissful images against my closed eyes: of my family, of my friends, of all those unfortunate souls I knew, safe and sound- Of Shuichi. The only sense besides sound I could feel for a time was my mouth curling into a smile.

> _“Will the circle be unbroken_  
>  _By and by, by and by?_  
>  _Is a better home awaiting_  
>  _In the sky, in the sky?”_

Now, rather than the ouroboros being a dark ring choking my vision, it was a ring of flowers- Or a looping chorus, or a wedding ring around the finger of two lovers.

> _“You remember songs of heaven_  
>  _Which you sang with childish voice._  
>  _Do you love the hymns they taught you,_  
>  _Or are songs of earth your choice?”_

I truly believe that the voice of god is a song, not unlike the one I heard in those moments: not as grounded as Rantaro’s, but perfect tones yet undiscovered by us; nothing else would fit.

> _“Will the circle be unbroken_  
>  _By and by, by and by?_  
>  _Is a better home awaiting_  
>  _In the sky, in the sky?”_

Can you hear these words on a page? Can you picture it all, does a voice so distant still reach you? That’s the beauty of this all.

> _“You can picture happy gath'rings_  
>  _Round the fireside long ago,_  
>  _And you think of tearful partings_  
>  _When they left you here below.”_

My fingers had an itch, to play an accompaniment on an imaginary piano, even if it would soil the thing with a little needless complexity. So another small fragment of sense joined the sound, the feeling of my red fingers irritated by rope burn playing against white sheets- Only missing the black to define them.

> _“Will the circle be unbroken_  
>  _By and by, by and by?_  
>  _Is a better home awaiting_  
>  _In the sky, in the sky?”_

The bliss of a world filled only with play and music was beginning to fade, now- As my mind caught up with reality. I desperately clutched at the feeling, trying to remain in partiality and that perfect ignorance.

> _“One by one their seats were emptied._  
>  _One by one they went away._  
>  _Now the family is parted._  
>  _Will it be complete one day?”_

It was almost gone, now: and the pain, the doubt, the awareness… The… Self, was coming back. I remembered who was singing, what I was feeling, how I got here and what I had done. It came slowly, mercifully: I don’t know what I would have done if that realization came all at once.

> _“Will the circle be unbroken_  
>  _By and by, by and by?_  
>  _Is a better home awaiting_  
>  _In the sky, in the sky?”_

The music ended, and I opened my eyes.

* * *

 

The room was an eerie combination of the stark, white perfection of a hotel or resort room- And an all too personal touch to it that made me feel like it was made to make me as comfortable as possible, while having a somewhat opposite effect.

There were posters and paintings that reminded me of my old room, trinkets and baubles on the shelves that I faintly remember having, and even a few things I know I had lost forever: some few old toys or sheets of music. It even maintained that messy nature my old room did, some pages pinned to the wall, and a cluttered desk with stacks of the things and a messily painted piano on its surface (I was never the best artist)

It also had a decor to it like a beach house, shells and paintings of the beach- Signs made of driftwood, sandy glass bottles and a warm color palette.

Rantaro was sitting across from my bed, easing on a worn, white-painted rocking chair with chipped paint that exposed the cream-colored wood beneath, and a little grime worn around the edges. He was holding an old guitar in his hands, the wood lovingly eroded from years of play- but still taken care of, like a child of the soul and the mind. Upon seeing my eyes open, he gave me that small, knowing smiles he seemed to have all the time, and settled down the guitar next to him.

It’s an uncanny feeling, seeing a corpse returned to life; he was clearly no zombie, with blood flushed in his skin and a steady rhythm to him. But with death being the most absolute finality the world knows, it seems an impossible contradiction to see him here now, when the last memory of him is a cold corpse, decaying ever so slowly in a pool of his own ultraviolet blood. Now that my bliss of song had ended, the full reality of this impossibility became apparent: causing a confusion like a discordant tune reverberating through my skull, and only intensifying the headache I already had from the intense pain I felt in my throat and fingers.

But that was nothing compared to the heavy weight of emotions completely crushing me; after just coming down from the extended emotional low of my murder and subsequent execution- a regression caused by the incomprehensible void of consciousness that came after my death- I was now struck again by that most intense self-loathing, a hot knife piercing through every part of my humanity and making me wish I was still dead.

I had ended a life, the life of an innocent- someone I knew, who trusted me and believed me when I said I was their friend, and that we’d get through it all. Instead, I was a tiny grain of sand that managed to collapse an entire tunnel- the catalyst who surely set in motion every other murder that i’m sure must have followed mine. We were a unit, steadfast and even willing to die for one another; and I ruined that, betrayed the trust and the harmony that once existed, that was like sixteen voices all singing as one.

And now, I see him, have to face him and talk to him, knowing what I did and everything I betrayed. The thought of his potential anger was crucifying, filling me with a dread like an inky black well; but what was worse was the smile he showed me in this moment. Because I don’t deserve it, don’t deserve the smiles, or the songs- Or anything, really.

That’s so much worse than any anger, sadness or disappointment- because I deserve punishment, and I really can’t understand why anyone would forgive me. Not any of my classmates, not Shuichi, and especially not Rantaro.

“Rantaro, I... “ I tried to speak, but all the injured parts of me clashed together at one time, and all that came out was a garbled, teary mess: from my throat that felt like I had swallowed a bundle of rope, to my swollen tongue, and the most injured parts of all… My heart, my mind, my soul. I couldn’t even speak out another tiny, miserable attempt before I completely burst into ugly sobs that only tightened all the pain into a justful vice.

My sight became a teary and salty waterworld, blurred colors like a dewdropped window or a smeared watercolor painting. I couldn’t see much, and what I could see shook up and down as I rocked and heaved with each tumultuous sob. My entire world was plunged into that oceanic trench of grief and despair, everything shutting down like it had at the end…

A green and blue blob of color shifted across the pastel background, until it was right at my side. I felt a steady hand on my shoulder, and hear the quiet but firm voice of Rantaro just over my own noisy cacophony of tears.

“What, was my play really that bad to miss golden ears? I know i’m not as good as Ibuki or even Maki, but I didn’t think i’d make you cry…” His tone was joking, but with a layer beneath it, like everything he said- Like fossils or graves just under the topsoil, a tiny hint of mystic intrigue beneath. But also, unlike the normal for him, was that… Pity? Sadness? Something else?

This hurts, it hurts, it hurts. All I want him to do is to yell, to scream, to show the anger he must have, to hurt me, to just make up for my failures. To acknowledge the heinous crime and betrayal on all levels. And yet, he’s laughing, joking: like it never happened. But it did happen, and all this forgiveness and pity just eats me up inside, a caustic acid bubbling mercilessly.

  
I try to say something again, but all the words get caught in a messy jumble against the sobs and the pain. I feel so helpless, because i’m being given pity I don’t want, kindness I don’t deserve, and i'm just an absolute mess who can't even speak up and change any of it. This pain I feel in my chest, like a fiery blossom- is the only just thing about any of this.

The grass green and sky blue blob that was rantaro moved form beside me, grabbing something indistinguishable from the blurry background and tossy it in my lap. It seemed roughly box-shaped, and after haphazardly fumbling my hands over it, I felt the small tuft of tissues extending out the top. “You’re going to need these if we’re going to get anywhere- I know this is a lot to go through, but to spare you the anxiety of waiting for when it's easier to have an actual conversation: yeah, I forgive you. I know it’s never as easy as just saying that, and honestly…” He trailed off like words running off a page, giving me a little bit of time to interpret what he said thoroughly, putting it into the musical language of my mind.

Those words sunk deep into me, making me feel as if the iron in my blood had become lead, and a little bittersweet melody was composed that echoed in my head from those chaos-quieting words: I forgive you.

Some part of me was relieved, since those words always held hope and Rantaro wasn’t exactly a liar- Just someone who would withhold information if he thought it necessary. But still, all I wanted was someone to acknowledge the demon that I am: why can not even my victim realize that?

I rubbed my eyes with the tissues and blew my nose a few times, having some trouble with my hands shaking like I have nothing stable left. The sobs didn’t stop completely, but became quieter.. A little beat of sorrow in the background. After making myself a little less miserable on the outside, I blinked my eyes open- turning to Rantaro and seeing him in real clarity for the first time since his song.

He was leaning against a sliding glass door now, that led out to a balcony and a sunny blue sky that seemed completely fake, like just a little blue paint smeared over a ceiling. He looked a little different than I last saw him living, with a few new scars on his arms, and a small one on his face. He had the pin of a raven buttoned on his shirt, with a single exposed eye that glared right into me.

The look on his face was dark, methodical and pensive as per usual- A complexion that almost cast his face in shadow just by itself, while still having cuts of light illuminate part of it; but it also contained a measure of sympathy, a little dot of color that tarnished a bit of the mystery the shadows gave him. I had never seen something like it in him before, and when I met his eyes- he gave me a knowing smile, and finally finished his sentence, like he was waiting for eye contact.

“...That’s probably not what you wanted to hear; but life’s rough, or in this case… Maybe not rough enough. Almost dying like you did is more than enough punishment, even if I thought you deserved any in the first place.” There was quite a bit of disappointment in those words, almost like he expected better of me than to think like this- The way it subtly augmented his voice reminded me of the slight tuning of a guitar string.

He’s inane, irrational, out of thought- which is the last thing I thought i’d say about him, someone who seems to always be watching, thinking, devouring the world with his eyes. Who thought the piano freak would be the one to see things clearly, especially now? It’s so obvious how rotten I am, but he just can't see that fetid core, with its sour aspect rising to the surface.

“But… But I killed you!” I somehow got out, the energy in my words escaping all the shackles in my throat, as my voice was raised and my bloodied throat ignited in a storm of pulsing pain: now I was the one getting angry. Why couldn’t he just be angry with me?

He gave a small chuckle, staring hard at me with a steadfast nonchalance. “No, you didn’t, actually. And hell, even if you did, life’s too short and the world’s too big to waste your time on revenge. I’m someone who might go to a lot of extremes to reach my goals, but what’s done is done and i’m not going to waste my time, energy or emotions on something that’s already happened and won’t happen again. I’m not going to tell you if you’re some sort of monster or not, partly because i’m one of the worst judges of both morality and characters you could possibly find, but also because it’s not my place to say: not that I could change your mind either way. I’ve never been good at any sort of emotional support- just ask my sisters- but for what it’s worth, I don’t see you any different now than I did during the game; because stress is one hell of a drug, and it’s not like you had a lot of time to consider what you were doing. It’s even partially my fault, for even going after her. Really, the grinding wheel of fate was right at our backs, and there’s not much we could have done. I don’t like wasting time on revenge, but I also don’t like endlessly yearning over what could have been, and you shouldn’t either.” It’s odd, how his words were both apathetic and unemotional- but somehow still passionate and persuasive. Like a Danse Macabre between two mortal enemies, locked in a struggle of love and hate, life and death.

But for as comforting as his words might’ve been, despite being a little bleak, they still didn’t do much to ease what I was feeling: he might think like that, but I never was someone who could let the past just… Die. Because, after all- there’s too many great moments back then, and in taking an eraser to one part you might accidentally brush over another. And how am I supposed to quantify morality when i’ve committed the ultimate sin, which stains my heart more than the notes or the songs ever could. How am I supposed to tell myself to keep on going when i’ve already hit the lowest note I can?

It was a lot to take in, too; he never struck me as someone who was wordy, but now a lot his thoughts were spilling out like tides onto a beach, even if he kept a small part of that veil of mystique at all times. I was able to catch onto a couple things that stood out to me, despite feeling like my heart beated to the tune of a requiem: he didn’t remember anything, but now he seems to know more about himself than me, and… Going after… “Her?” Actually, now that the self-loathing had settled from a broiling, bubbling stew of caustic fire into just a diluted muck of pessimism and insults, I could begin to understand just how truly strange this situation was.

Why wasn’t I dead? Because.. Well, this wasn’t heaven, as nice as it is: it’s not like angels would put a scar on my throat or burns on my fingers to remind me. Moreover, why wasn’t.. He dead? Maybe there’s a chance, just a chance that I cruel overseer would spare me, but Rantaro was well and truly gone, viridian tainted by a cerise spray that gaped and gouged and oozed and… And….

...I’d keep thinking about that, because I honestly deserve to contemplate Rantaro’s lifeless body, slumped like a mossy trunk returning to the earth for all of eternity, but it’ll have to wait. Too many questions, too much unfinished business, too much inverted justice.

I took an extended moment between his long-winded requital to my anger and my eventual response, gathering myself more and listening closely to the music notes my stupid little mind somehow drew from the waves, the rustling of leaves, and the cry of gulls. Rantaro stared over me with that unflinching relaxed demeanor- like a statue unmoving in the face of the world around it- giving me plenty of time as his expression slightly shifted in tiny ways with each thought that danced over his mind.

“Why am I here?” It was meant as only a question, but I showed a little bit more of my cards then i’d like, and the pathetic little pianist on the inside popped up more than she already had; it sounded like an accusation more than anything, wondering why I had been snatched from a death I deserved to rejoin a world I ruined. And of course, my voice was still destroyed, too- From the crying, and my throat, sounding like a woodwind well out of maintenance

“Excellent question.” He grinned, continuing casually despite how I sounded. “That is the question to ask, and it seems like it’s getting asked more and more in this new wild, wild world we’ve gotten ourselves into, but i’m going to have to set a few expectations before I answer that. I’m under obligation from… Someone, and I really can’t afford to bend the rules too much, so there’s a lot I can’t tell you. It doesn’t hurt to ask, but if you do, i’ll just have to tell you if I can even tell you the answer or not; the last thing i’d ever do is lie to you, even if it’s some sort of white, pretty lie people think helps.” He paused, turning his back to me and staring out the balcony. “So let’s get started: what i’m about tell you isn’t the complete picture, and i’m fine admitting that. You’re here for recovery, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well; nobody should have to go through what you did, but I know from experience you can get through it. It’s maybe even a little merciful that you got out when you did, since the longer you spend in those kind of things the more deadly the damage done.” A lot of care for somebody I killed, and someone quite a bit different than the survivor I saw in the game: he seems like a really nice guy, which only makes the shame of my betrayal even worse. But what he said was understandable, or at least, understandable enough. I didn’t like it, I didn’t agree with it… But i’d accept it, if only to not be even more terrible of a guest.

So after that whole thing was solved, my mind went back to the greatest question of all: why forgive me? Even if he’d already said, I don’t think there’s any answer that might make sense to me, so all I wanted to do was ask again. I felt the need to argue for days and days just to make him understand, but I don’t have the energy and who knows how deeply his patience runs. So all I asked was the most pressing part of it, that anyone could see was blatantly false.

“...You said I… “Didn’t” kill you.” I started, placing a mountain of emphasis on that word. “But… But.. What does that even mean? Are you… Being literal?” It sounds stupid, but I just had to ask: the evidence was there, the deed was done, and I didn’t want to believe that my actions didn’t reach the karmic retribution they deserved.

He gave a short, carefree laugh, turning back to me and rustling his hand through his hair. “Yeah, i’m not speaking symbologically or anything: i’m not the kind of guy who speaks in tongues a lot. I’m dead serious, and honestly, I didn’t want to have to explain this so soon- But with so much i’m not allowed to tell you, i’m not going to keep what I can say away from you if you want to hear it. But fair warning: there’s a reason this isn’t going to be very pretty to see. Everything about you right now screams of self-hate, that you’re throwing yourself into a dumpster because you think you deserve it, and saying you feel like shit is a huge understatement. Seeing this is going to make it worse, and any therapist worth their salt would ban you from seeing it entirely. But hell, i’m not a therapist: i’m not even a good older brother. So, if your ready….” I didn’t even need a moment of contemplation.

“I want to know the truth.”

“Alright then.” He said, sighing, extending out his hand to me. “Let’s go see me die.”

 


	2. The truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maybe its just how weird this all is... But I cant help but get a feeling of deja vu.

Rantaro led me out of the ood mimicry of my old room that seemed like a strange fever dream- haphazardly mixing concepts that had previously been separated into a vibrant mess- and helped me walk, keeping me upright when I stumbled. My legs felt like rubber, like they hadn’t been used in ages, and had become brittle twigs. It was nice for him to help me, but I still felt quite embarrassed- especially since I had no right to ask for anything, as the feelings inside me ate further and further away.

His low laughter didn’t help, either- although it seemed to be more intended as laughing with me rather than against me. His chuckle was dark, and a little inaudible, but rather neutral and non threatening.

“Don’t worry, it’s not anything permanent: I was the same way, just a while ago. Oddly enough, hasn’t actually been that long since your execution- although it probably feels like it. Time can be… Sort of weird here sometimes.” He explained, and just the word “Execution” sent a faint tingle down my spine, and a flash of.. Rather unpleasant images, like a scrapbook of despair. After taking a shallow breath and a few shackled wheezes, Rantaro glanced over and winced.

“...Right, sorry. Bit of a touchy subject, huh? Honestly, I didn’t have it nearly as bad as you- those executions are no joke, and my death was pretty much instant anyways. Unfortunately, there’s no way for us to dodge the subject right now… But I promise you won't have to think about this much soon, but that probably won’t matter much anyways- These kinds of things have a way of creeping into just about anything.” …..Pretty much instant, huh? All I can see is the shot put, rolling and rolling- like the turning wheel of fate and the puppets trung upon it being crushed beneath it. And then, far too quickly… Far too quickly…

Comes the end. Like a bubblegum explosion, such a joke of a color for something as grim as can be- it should be as black as sky, gray as stone, or red as the death of the sun. But I suppose its a calling card, for the reaper in pink who set it in motion in the first place.

I shut my eyes so forcefully they began to strain, trying to block out all the pink and the maddening melody of murder, but it digs and digs into my mind- drilling a little chasm of cotton candy pink, just large enough to lose what is me. I can vaguely feel something tightening, like a noose around a neck- but I can't quite tell with all these thoughts, turning all my senses into blurry little lines.

It feels like an eternity of just standing there, losing a grasp on reality and trying to just… Shit it all out. Eventually, I open my eyes again- and all my senses come back to me, one at a time… Like instruments entering a song.

...Including the feeling of a lukewarm liquid lightly coating and flowing over the tips of my fingers on the hand that Rantaro was leading me with. Looking over, I saw that a red veil lightly coated the tips of my fingers- it seemed my nails had dug into Rantaro’s arm during my episode, forming tiny crescent moons in his skin. The liquid on my fingers… Was that… Blood? The ood warmth and the source made me think so, but the red was the farthest from the cotton candy color I knew well by this point.

In transfixed horror, I wrestled my clawlike vice from his arm, staring at my hand and trying to rationalize what had even happened. Meanwhile, despite my harm to him, Rantaro said not a word- staring at me with an intrigued but unemotional visage.

“Rantaro, I-i’m.. I’m sorry.” I sound like a broken vase, with all these partial apologies and “sorries”... But what else am I supposed to do? Even if he seems dedicated to forgiving me, every little misstep seems another catastrophic failure. I stared and stared at those five marks I had pressed into him, that faintly oozed that unexplainable red blood, like five eclipsed moon crescents.

He shrugged casually, brushing the “blood?” off the incisions with his right hand and rubbing it between his fingers, studying it intently while it glimmered like the polished face of an apple. “A little blood never hurt anybody, and it’s my fault for not even trying to pry you off me while you were going through… That: I honestly just wanted to not accidentally make it worse. If anything, I should apologize for even letting you do that: I can just let you keep beating yourself up for my mistakes.”

Although he called himself a terrible older brother, you could really finely sense the brotherly care and affection sown lovingly into his voice by his siblings, like the starry lights of his life in golden thread. I heard the same inflection of care during the game, too: although it was muted by his prevailing suspicion. A little note flutters in my heart, knowing he treats me like a sister: but it’s suffocated by the ever-persistent feeling that I don’t deserve any of this.

“The… The blood..” I slowly said, both bewildered and fascinated at the same time by this rift of chaos in reality, like an artist swapping out colors for the hell of it; this really is a mad world, with red blood, living corpses, and an eerie feeling about it all… It feels like I can feel the hand of fate already sketching my path ahead of me.

“...Right.” He began, eyes shifting aimlessly in a conflicted way, like a restless ship in the sea. “It was pink….. Wasn’t it?” He uttered in an uneasy manner, more like a question to himself more than anything- Or questioning me whether I was mistaken. His voice seemed tinged in a different color- a charcoal gray, an unsettling possessive sound.

“O-of course it was!” I cried hoarsely, a little surprised he’d try to question something so obvious… And so oddly. “Always… It always was like that! I remember scraping my leg at my recital when I was little, and there was this ruby spray everywhere… I cried and cried for hours.” I mumbled wistfully, hugging myself slightly. “I know this is all ridiculous already, but… Blood just doesn’t suddenly change colors!”

Rings of shadows darkened under his eyes, pooling like spilled ink into worn ridges on a desk. “...Maybe it does, sometimes.” He remarked simply, turning to the side and partially obscuring his face with the hard lines that had seemed to suddenly appear across it. “Some things you just can’t question, Kaede.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to just… Accept that?” I protested, roughly tugging him to face me again before I could even realize what I was doing. “Blood changed color, and you’re just going to tell me to shrug it off?” In that moment of confusion and anger, I had forgotten myself- Only to suddenly realize I had just pestered a person I had no right to.

Expecting retribution, I already had an apology stuck in my throat- but I should have known that Rantaro is a very unusual person, even compared to the version I saw in the game- they were like someone and their slightly distorted reflection.

He turned to me and smiled coyly, and…With a bit of pride? “It’s good you’re feeling so fiesty, even if you seem to have already regretted it: but you’re right.” He sighed, as the shadows faded from the pale canvas of his face and he adopted his classic grin. “ I can pull off the whole “Mystery Man” pretty well, but even I realize how ridiculous all this sounds… But you know- bound by contract and all. I’ve never been the best or worst rule follower, but this time I kind of don’t have a choice.” He paused, idly fumbling with the raven pin on his shirt. “Don’t be afraid to speak up: I don’t want to be around a mute musician, right? You may still think I have some sort of underlying grudge , or you don’t have the right to question me, but let me say... I’m not going to ask a lot of you while you’re here, besides not drinking all the OJ… But one of my few requests is to please speak your mind.” He finally gave up with the pin, turning his back to me yet again as his voice dipped from something uplifting to a little mellow.

“I spent quite a bit of time just… Watching you sleep, you know? I think i’ve already had enough of you being silent: I want that fiery little rabble rouser I saw in the game, not a quiet little mouse. I feel a little terrible asking this of you so soon, and you can’t exactly refuse.. But it’s felt like i’m still talking to an empty room ever since you’ve woken, and that’s a shame- seeing as you’re one of the people I most respect.” There was that affection again: but poised in an elegant medley, with a wistful tune on his lips that soared through the air with a little swirl; I can’t say I think i’m especially deserving of even hearing such a thing, but at this point arguing against what he just said would be rude and ungrateful, even more so than I already had been.

But I was still confused… And, he had told me to speak my mind, after all. “Respect?” I gave a tiny, sad laugh that sounded more like a wheeze than anything- “ I get sympathy. I get kindness. I even understand the forgiveness, at least a little. But respect? You… Hardly knew me, and I didn’t exactly make the greatest first impression with my shoddy leadership and wishful optimism; you’re speaking like i’m a close family member or a friend, and yet we’ve hardly spoken… You even waited for me!”

He stood still for a few seconds, staring off into eternity and pressing the raven deeply into his chest. “You’re right: I haven’t talked directly much with you, at least in the game; but I saw what you did after I died… You had every opportunity to bail, to live and to see another day: you could even clear your conscience, knowing what your actual motive was.” He stared me straight in the eyes suddenly, with a surprising conviction. “ Instead, you stayed, condemning yourself not only to death, but a hell of embarrassment and torture; it’s true you couldn’t have known what the full extent of your punishment was, and you might have backed out if you did-but I don’t think you would have it. Call it a “Naive little hunch”, but I can say that I have a lot of experience with people when times are tough… More than you’d ever think.” He murmured gravenly, rubbing one of his scars.

“It’s easy to make a decision like you did in the moment and be forced to follow through, but over time, the mind wavers and cracks, like Atlas under the sky. You think and think about what lies ahead, your resolve cracking like an eggshell, and eventually…” He made a motion like cracking an egg. “...Well, you get the point. But you had as many chances to change your mind as the drops of candy-red blood in my veins, and you still held strong- From the first blood perk, to the trial, and everything in-between: you could have easily just changed your mind and thrown Shuichi under the bus when the crowd was against him. Instead, you toughed it out till the end and were awarded with the shittiest prize imaginable. Even if it all was just because of that crippling guilt and shame that weighs you so heavily I swear I can see the boards bend beneath you, you still went the extra mile and tries to take her out with you. And even if you ended up failing… Let’s just say you did a lot more for those poor souls left there than I ever did.”

He placed his hands on his hips and chuckled darkly, the quietest rumble of thunder I had ever heard. “Now that I think about it, it’s pretty smart that they managed to kill two birds with one shot put, to speak- considering we were each the largest threats to the game at the time.”

I stared, mouth agape for a few moments. “....I guess i’ll just never understand you, Rantaro Amami.” I gave my first real laugh since waking- and even if it was as rough as sandpaper, I still felt a small bit of that weight off the world off my shoulders.

He held up his arms in protest, speaking jokingly in return. “Hey, I thought I made it pretty obvious how much of a trooper you are, Piano Peony, with all those words I just said and all. Are you telling me I wasted them?” He joked, rustling his hand through my hair. “I’m sure you still have plenty more questions for me… But with all the talking i’m doing, I expect something in return, you know? Time for your own long winded monologue.”

“About what?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Anything, really: i’m starting to get worried my voice is going to be as hoarse as yours, soon, with all this praise i’m raining down. It doesn’t even have to be too long, just until we get downstairs… Which, we should have already done, by the way- If didn’t stop in the middle of this hallway. Thanks for that, by the way.” He winked. “Just speak your mind: you must have a lot of stuff to unload that’s been bottled up in there.”

We had been stopped in the hallway for a while… Although it was more of a balcony, overlooking other parts of the beachhouse, than an enclosed hallway. It was above what looked like a fairly comfortable, although modern, living room, and the edge was separated with glass railing framed by warm woods. A skylight let in streaming shafts of scintillating sunlight, painting the already cheery blues and creams in an even more amicable mood.

“Alright… I hope you don’t mind if I don’t open up much more…” I muttered meekly.

“Of course not.” He affirmed, beginning to stroll away. “I’ve talked so much about my feelings, I may as well be showing you my skeleton at this point- but that doesn’t mean you have to do the same.”

Nodding, I began walking, and just… Speaking. Each step bringing out just a few more words.

“I guess I just have to say that life seems so complicated sometimes; even stripping away everything, all the little details and additions, and just focusing on the emotions… If life were a song, it’d be messy… Confused. Jumping erratically from mood to mood, tempo to tempo. I know if I wrote something like that i’d be stripped of my title, and yet the chaos of it all can seem… Rapturous, somehow. Insightful in a way our mortal music can’t capture with its scope, something dizzying in its complexity yet soft and harmonious on the ears. For now, I don’t know if I deserve to hear it… I don’t know if I even can hear it completely, because even with these golden ears I still sometimes feel that people far deafer than me can hear it better than I. I catch little snippets, sometimes- In the waves, the rustling of branches, or the tender voice of someone next to me. In the hubbub of traffic, the cozy recluse of a loft on a rainy day… Many, many places, and even in other music itself. Not the notes themselves, but the gliding over the keys and the love in the fingers behind them, the smiles on many faces, or the silence just before applause.”

“So then, maybe, that’s my reason to live: I still haven’t heard the whole song. My heart has always been black with the stained ink of notes, but now it seems to have suddenly become heavy with them- the ink has become iron. It’s hard to rationalize anything in my head, when it's all so mad, even to me- but music isn’t rational, is it? It isn’t sane. If insanity is doing the same thing, over and over… Than what is it i’ve been doing by playing? Insanity.” We reached the stairs, and with each one descended, I felt my heartbeat in tune with another, far away.

“I can say I feel less guilty, but not by much: but I do feel clear headed, a look over a lake after a long week of fog. Maybe it’s just enough to channel these sad little notes in my heart toward something, if I feel they belong there forever.”

When we reached the bottom, Rantaro was staring at me with a surprised, although amused expression. “I didn’t think i’d get that much out of you: you sure are full of surprises.”

I shrugged. “I think you already knew most of that, anyways… Just show me what you’re going to show me.

He nodded, leading me over to the sofa, then sitting down beside me and hovering his hand over the remote. “...Are you sure you’re ready for this? There’s no going back: what you’re about to see will only make what you’re feeling even worse.”

It was already decided in my mind. “If that’s the case, why are you even giving me the option?”

“...Like I said, i’m not a big fan of hiding information from people: but it’s your choice.”

“You already know my answer.”

Sighing, he clicked the remote.

* * *

 

  
And there was that godawful music.

I usually refrain from criticizing music so severely, because all songs sound blissful to the ears, if in a different sort of way- but it’s the absolute truth this time. I don’t think anyone could enjoy it, unless you were purposefully seeking a frenetic, mind-melting sound. It’s a choppy blend of carnival and electronic, and i’m almost sure it’s made specifically to annoy and impair those who hear it. Timed with the onscreen prompts about cartoony chess pieces in mass graves, it further stressed the absolute laughter in the face of life and death that game promoted.

Not only that, but my mind had already associated it with those moments of rhythm-stopping realization: although the real screen in front of me was also showing a video feed from that day, my mind also flashed with images of Rantaro’s body, like a puppet with its strings cut- or a guilt so heavy it feeds lead into the soul. My heart rate quickened to an allegro tempo, becoming buzz amidst the churning sound of that song and my drowned out thoughts in my ears.

I felt like I was burning up, as heat raced across my skin and chills crept under my veins. My hands clamped tighter, tighter, like iron manacles- My body tensing until I could feel it straining. And it only got worse as the video went on….

It started with me, at the moment of no return. Just a slight gesture, a little slip of the hand- A roll that sets the turning wheel of fate into motion. The camera somehow tracks the ball perfectly, speeding along through the vent as tiny slits of light flash by, wounds of radiance upon the darkness. And then…

And then…

Thwomp.

I could not look, nor could I look away: I was bound there, staring. All control had left my body, and I could feel my spirit riding the wave of a song faster than light itself. And yet…

There was nothing. The sound of it hitting the ground was deafening, a symbol crashing against the chaos, but it was just that- The ground. The Rantaro on the screen looked confused… Almost like he knew he had somehow cheated fate.

And then… A blue shadow crept behind him. The hair seemed to twist and bend with the light like fibrous snakes, and the spectacles glimmered- catlike in the dark. She raised fate’s round pendulum…

And then.

Black.

I could feel the world slipping away as my mind flew away on the highest note yet. My everything was pink and blue, green and red. A churning whirlpool of insanity.

As I slipped away into unconsciousness from pure shock, I welcomed the bliss of unknowing.


	3. Ocean Stars Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You need to stop this. Stop acting. We're here for you! We cant make progress if you don't let us."
> 
> "I hear it- I hear it everywhere! In the waves, in the static of the TV or the radio, in the voices of passersby. All I want is for everyone else to hear it, too!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus! But thank you so much to everyone who commented- You inspired me to continue this fic!

My sleep was dark, black, and weary: i’m glad I could somehow stave off the nightmares that were no doubt crawling at the edge of my awareness… I was so tired, even after having slept for so long. Guess it's just my emotional muscle, working overtime. 

Still, though- Murmurs gingerly tickled in my ears, while I still wasn’t fully conscious. Enough to store them away, but not enough to quite realize what I was hearing.

“....AND YOU DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD HAVE ADVERSE EFFECTS?” The voice was… Female. Shrill, too, like an out of tune instrument, and undoubtedly irate. Not… Just angry, though. It had a bit of a pink or purple color behind it,  the sign of care or of love. It was hoarse, too- Worn down and eroded, like someone not used to raising their voice.

“Hey, hey….” Now that was Rantaro- Keeping it easy, despite being yelled at. “Chill out, Mikan- It’s not like you to freak out like this: we both know this wasn’t my choice, and i’d rather she didn’t see what she did.”

“You’re….” The voice belonging to “Mikan” sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re right. Sorry, sorry…. But still! Even if you had to show it to her eventually, you could have waited a while!” She was irregular, seemingly rapidly alternating between a timid near-silence, and vexed protectiveness.

“I made a promise- To her, you know. I get you treat your patients like your world, but i’m not going to lie to her- Any kind of lie, and that includes withholding information I don’t have to.”

“And I-“ She inflated her voice temporarily “-As her nurse, proclaim that was a stupid promise.” 

I heard Rantaro chuckle, voice like the low strum of a guitar. “You can argue that with her when she wakes up: I at least thought she appreciated it.”

“Oh yeah, just like she appreciated FALLING UNCONSCIOUS FROM SHOCK!” I heard her shout, before adding in a timid, tiny “sorry” afterwards.

* * *

  
  


When I woke, my head was foggy- I only just faintly remembered where I was, and what had even happened- In this place or before it, and that was honestly kind of a blessing. 

My mind entered consciousness to the sweet smell of green tea, the murmurings of a hushed conversation, and a room bathed in an oily canvas of shadow- Dark enough to be relaxing, but with enough tender light from the moon to keep the room visible, despite the lack of any lights on.

There was a girl sitting next to me- And the best way I could describe her is flawed, but beautiful. Her purple hair blended well with the soft shadows around her, looking soft enough to not be out of place amongst similarly colored velvet- But with irregular and jarring angles in her hairline that, to some, might have made her ugly- But to me, it just emphasized the caring, human aura she radiated, warm and soothing. From the way her plump face had an inviting, but slightly embarrassed smile- To the slight blush of her cheeks, and even her simplistic, but still complimenting summer outfit.

She really seemed like the person you wanted taking care of you- Which, not so coincidentally is exactly what she’s doing. Rantaro has good taste in nurses, evidently. 

She seemed absorbed in a conversation with someone else- Or, rather, with someone over a video call- A tablet of sorts was propped up on a rustic, worn-down turquoise table on the end of my bed, and displayed on it was another girl.

She had on a headset, clearly engrossed in whatever game she was playing while talking to my nurse, as I could hear the noisy and somewhat melodic keys of her keyboard clacking over the call, which my brain of course instantly tried to filter into music. Her short, pink-brown hair looked like it didn’t have too much care put into it, but it really gave her that sort of tomboy feel, alongside the pin in her hair and the whole gamer attitude she exuded- But her pinchiable cheeks and wide eyes were honestly sort of cute.

I was content to just sit there for a second, not wanting to interrupt- My nurse was clearly enjoying the conversation, as I could see her eyes brighten like a spark in the night while they spoke.

“...So, how’s the beach?” Gamer girl said, eyes still wholly focused on whatever she was playing. “I haven’t really ever been to one, unless you count virtual volleyball, or those couple of times in the game.”

“I, Erm…” the nurse began, having trouble finding her words as she tapped her fingers together. “I haven’t really- Had the time. Or, ummm… Wanted to, really. B-bad memories, you know…” She locked her eyes squarely into the ground. 

Gamer girl paused her key tapping for a moment, face caught in a moment of dual concentration and contemplation, before immediately resuming with a flurry of taps. “...Yeah, haven’t really thought of it that way. I… Well, I’ve been trying to forget, you could say. Or not.. Trying to?” She seemed to be having a real hard time putting her words together. “I just… Most of the time, it feels like it never happened: maybe it’s the games? Or maybe my mind doesnt like it when I keep remembering something so traumatic. But… Sometimes, it just sneaks up on me and stabs me in the back. Certain things, really… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at tetrimimos the same way again. Or… Look at them at all, really.”

Nurse smiled sadly. “I, um… Well, it’s not as easy for me to not think about stuff like that. You know, when im around Rantaro and Kaede- It kind of comes up a lot.”

I opened my mouth to protest- After all, I am eavesdropping, and when the conversation is both personal and about me, to boot- And I really don’t want to be known as the kind of person who does something like that. I get about halfway through a word before it comes to a grinding halt like a car slamming on its brakes, and I remember exactly how hoarse and dry my throat actually is- And even more sleep couldn’t have helped that. It feels like sandpaper, or a dry reed trying to vibrate.

Instantly, the nurse snapped her head over to me at lightning speed. Her expression morphs from saddened, reminiscent contemplation to a steadfast determination and single minded concentration so unlike her timid personality- In a moment, she’s rushed over to me like a streak of Lilac, holding a cup of tea up to my mouth.

I try to squeak out more words, but she just shook her head fervently, seemingly completely unconcerned by how I had just breached her privacy. “No. Drink.” I obliged, if only just because she was so darn convincing- And immediately wondered why I hadn’t sooner. It was sweet, refreshing bliss soothing my throat and removing the taste of battery acid from my mouth- Like an upbeat tune, something like  _ morning _ .

She continued standing right next to me, watching over me intently with both equally concerned and prying look- As I gobbled down the tea and did my best to speak.

“Uh…. Guys, I’m sorry that I was ...”

“Eavesdropping?” Gamer girl cut in, previously blank expression changing into a heartfelt smile that made the back of my mind go a little fuzzy. “It’s fine, Kaede: to be honest, I saw you out of the corner of my eye anyways. I just wanted Mikan to relax for a little longer and not go full nurse mode on you so soon.”

Mikan suddenly snapped out of her careful and concentrated mood, an adorable blush filling her cheeks as she glanced away from me. Funny, how two different auras about herself could fit her so perfectly….

“I… Wait, how do you guys know my name?” The realization suddenly dawned on me as I blinked a few times, and Mikan’s blush somehow got even redder. Gamer girl just chuckled, pulling off her headset and releasing her cute, messy hair- And god, how I loathe my Bi brain deciding that  _ now  _ Of all times was the best time to be having these thoughts.

“It’s…. Kind of complicated….” Mikan began, voice almost whisper like- Before gamer girl helped her out. “Mikan’s right, but more or less, Rantaro told her.” At the mention of that name, Mikan’s face contorted into just a little anger.

“And…” Mikan began, a surprising amount of care for someone she must have just met in her voice- “You wouldn’t be back in bed if Rantaro hadn’t decided to blatantly ignore my instructions….”

With that reminder, the repressed memories of what exactly had caused me to faint in the first place flooded back in a crescendo of agony, and I winced- Almost wishing I would faint again. 

For the past couple of hours, all I have felt… Every moment, every passing second… Is guilt. And I can’t imagine feeling anything else, or how anyone could feel anything but this. It was all my fault- I had betrayed everyone, and everything I told them I stood for. I might as well be as responsible as the mastermind themselves… after all, I played right into their hands.

Or, I thought all of that. Now? I was just… Confused. I didn’t know what to think, to feel. In a lot of ways it was easier, just giving into that guilt- It was raw, powerful. It felt real and tangible, I could nearly reach out and grasp or, no matter how painful it was. But…. What now? Should I just… Forgive myself already? Was it still my fault? Was their blood still on my hands, on my keys? 

Or was it hers? 

I was falling into a murky sea of fog and confusion. I couldn’t think, couldn’t feel…. The ground slipped away from me, and everything I thought I knew was gone. Sure, she might’ve landed the killing blow…. But if he were just a few centimeters to the left….

Nothing would be different. I’d still be a murderer- I still  _ am  _ a murderer. All that matters is that I had the will to do it, and the lack of foresight to realize exactly what I could do. 

That realization stabbed me painfully directly into the heart, a bitter little note plucked on fanciful strings made bittersweet. The context didn’t matter: all that mattered was that I had the will to do it.

And that’s what makes a killer; not the kill itself. 

But then, where did  _ she _ fit into all of this? I might have had the will to do it- But she actually pulled the trigger- And while I was a coward who could never see the life of someone pass before my eyes from my own hands…. She did it with ease.

She was the  _ mastermind _ . But even thinking that now…. It only seems so, so wrong. That word, that cadence simply doesn’t fit her- She was a completely different person in that snapshot I saw of her, and… Try as I might, I can’t think of anyone but the Tsumugi from the game when I try to think of her… The nerdy, awkward girl who fit in just a little…. Too well.

It’s not hard to see that’s what she wanted me to think, but it still just felt… So wrong. Even when I’m face to face with the evidence, the decisive proof of her guilt, it’s still hard to fit the thoughts together inside my mind. It’s like… Two different people. Sharp and flat, black and white. Was this just more of me selfishly shifting all the blame onto myself? And… Would I have been okay if she was the one in a pool of her own blood in the library? 

“Kaede.” I was snapped out of my twisting, pink spiral of delusion and questions by the tender voice of gamer girl, and I saw Mikan with a worried expression that stabbed me in the chest- But… That’s all I seem to be good for, right? Hurting other people.

I did my best to work up a smile, but my lips reflexively tugged themselves back down into something more downcast, creating an awkward half-smile that was strained, and probably pretty pathetic to look at.

“I...Sorry about spacing out there. I just….”

“Don’t worry about it, Kaede. And hey, um… Mikan?” Mikan’s expression was sullied with a little bit of anger, I assume at Rantaro… It breaks my heart to make her angry at him for my problems….

“Yes, Chiaki?” Mikan glanced over at the girl whose name I had finally learned and I breathed a sigh of relief- Because although her gaze was caring, it was a little piercing- It reminded me of my mom and the way she would scold me endlessly when I lost all my sleep practicing tirelessly on just a few notes, wanting them to be perfect- To gift that same happiness I felt while playing them to my audience. Somebody who cares, but just… Doesn’t really have a way to show it.

“Do you, ummm… Mind if I talk with Kaede alone for a bit?” Chiaki seemed uncomfortable, eyes fogged over with something inscrutable, a distant memory… And Mikan reacted with a bit of surprise before smiling and nodding. “Of course…” She muttered meekly, before beginning to walk out of the room.

“And try not to kill Rantaro while we’re talking.” Chiaki joked, and although Mikan laughed it off with a tiny little chuckle, there was a vulnerability lost in her irises at being the brunt of a joke.

When she was gone, Chiaki’s soft, pinchable face shifted from a more casual, lighthearted complection like lily blossoms on a spring day, to something much more serious, but still supportive- Hardened eyes sharpened by painful emotions, but with a fierceness to them that showed a spark of determination hidden by all the softness, and its with a heavy heart that I realized she had been hiding her tired eyes and more serious mood to keep Mikan more upbeat.

I was a bit honored, though- She respected me enough to show me this side of her, even after seeing me so vulnerable. I felt like a kid again, lost in the supermarket or waiting on the side of the road for my mom to pick me up from recital… After seeing all that, after seeing me space out, lost in the past, and surely heard from Rantaro how much of a mess I was yesterday.. What had she seen in me to think me strong?

“Sorry about Mikan.” She gave a reassuring smile, and I couldn’t help but break eye contact with the care and compassion I knew I didn’t deserve.

“Sorry about what?” I tried to smile in a lighthearted way again- And this time, it actually kind of worked. Maybe it was all the times that I’ve strained a smile on stage when my heart was in my throat and my mind a jumbled mess, half-split between nerves and panic, with the rest of it like a beautiful, natural machine working every note like magic. “Mikan seems like a great person.”

Chiaki chuckled. “I’m not denying that. She can just be a little…. Pushy, sometimes. I think… Erm, overprotective is the word? Kind of like a support who focuses too much on their carry so it starts to impact their own play.” I didn’t exactly get the analogy, but  The rest of it made sense, although I didn’t really seem the harm in being like that. Was that how other people saw me? Pushy, maybe too much of a go-getter….?

“Well, uh…” I blushed a bit, sipping on Mikan’s tea absentmindedly to mend both my throat and my nerves. “I think it’s fine. I’m someone who clearly needs a lot of help right now…” I laughed it off, trying to play it as a little bit of self-deprecating humor, but Chiaki just pouted a bit and flashed me a concerned look.

“You’re right. She’s an amazing nurse… Not that I really have any experience with nursing besides surgeon simulator, but I think she’d sooner die herself then let her patients get hurt. Which is… Kind of the problem. Every time anything Rantaro says hurts you in the slightest, she feels like he may as well have backstabbed you.” She stared off to the side, expression muddling with a contemplative and slightly mysterious tune. 

“Well, I’ll be sure to tell her it’s really, really not his fault. I’m… Just a bit of a softie, you know? I’m sure if it was someone like you or Rantaro you’d take it in stride.”

“You downplay yourself a lot.” Chiaki offhandedly stated, and I took a brief glance around the darkened room, if only to break her constant, concerned stare. “And I don’t think she’d get off Rantaro’s case even if you told her that. I think she’d just rather you… Never confront what happened to you, if it means you’re “Happier” or at least she thinks you’re happier… Even if that means you remain ignorant. Like I said, she’ll do anything to keep her patients safe, even if it's harmful to them.” I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic for her. After all, who wouldn't want to keep their friends close, and wish they’d never get hurt? Even if she just met me… It’s nice to know someone has my back already.

Or maybe it’s just because she doesn’t know I’ll probably let her down.

“And… Kaede. I know the kind of person you are.” I glanced up, a little confused, but also suddenly feeling very, very exposed- Like the sheets and my clothes were made of glass, like she could see all the out of tune thoughts rolling around in my head.

“And don’t you dare repress anything you’re feeling just so Mikan, Rantaro Or I feel better.” I hadn’t thought Chiaki could be so threatening… But the way her eyes sharpened and lips grew into a long, straight line sold how serious she was, how her emotions were accented and brought to a lead performance. “You’ve already tried to do it to me… I see your smiles. I see how much you just want everyone else to be happy. And I know after telling you how Mikan acts you probably just want to keep the peace, to act like nothing’s wrong so everyone can be happy.”

She sighed. “Of course, everyone except you: but listen, Kaede… You can’t just keep trodding yourself underfoot, even if you think it’s for good reason. I know telling you this does as much good as asking a toxic player to chill out, and I know that there’s no way I can understand exactly what you went through, even if I’ve seen… More than I’d like to, but I really, really want you to understand that your happiness… Is our happiness. Rantaro And Mikan might not tell you this because they’re too stoic and meek, respectively, but the only reason we’re here is to help you get better.:. and not just because it’s our job. It’s because we want to see you improve, want the spring back in your step and the smile back on your face, the magic back in your fingers and the music in your mind. If you lie and make it seem like everything’s alright, you’ll break eventually.”

She sucked in a long, slow breath. “And when you do, the aftermath will be worse for all of us then if you just had… Let us work through this with you. If you want to help us to be happy, let us help you to be happy. And… And you might say none of us really know you. And you’re right.” Her eyes lingered on the ground, old memories… Perhaps a familiar face swirling in her misty eyes.

“But we do know you. We’ve all got a bond: what we’ve been through, what we’ve survived, or… Well, maybe not.” She gave a slightly broken and forced laugh at that, hugging herself a bit. “I’m not expecting you to tell us everything- I know that’s impossible. Just… Try to make this easier for us, so we can make it easy for you.”

I stared at the ground, feeling…. I don’t know. Shameful? But, at the same time, hearing someone so passionate… Knowing that what are essentially complete strangers care so much…. Well, I guess that just makes me feel bad for beating myself up so much, as weird as that is, some…. Self-fulfilling depressive loop of the wrong thoughts. It’s also painfully clear how bad of a liar I am, if she saw through me that easily….

I glanced up, doing my best effort to release all the tension in my body, taught like a violin string, letting the bed envelop me like a warm hug, almost wishing it would swallow me completely… Even in the heat, the thick covers did a long way to make me feel nice.

“I…. I’ll try. I will. I- I swear. It’s just- I… I don’t want anyone else to suffer because of me. Not anymore.” I bit my lip, grounding myself in that base of pain. “But… Hah. Seems like that’ll happen regardless, huh?”

Chiaki slowly pulled her lips into a hollow, knowing smile that broke my heart, like a passionless lullaby. “You’re doing great, Kaede. As good as the rest of us- As good as anyone can. Good night.”

The tablet flickered off, and I was left feeling…. Sad, yes. But, something muddled in there. Teardrops in the rain. I felt just a little more complete, heard a little more of that music I did in everything. Smiling to myself, I finished the last of my tea- Gingerly setting it aside and slipping out of the bed. Taking my time walking… enjoying the way the twilight set everything into a comfortable tone, how the moonlight reflected off every little thing.

The house felt lived in. Real, breathing… the little personal addons scattered everywhere, travel brochures and yoga books, journals and sewing kits. I made my way to the back door, one of those sliding ones- Which gave a brilliant view of the ocean, the moon in its silently rolling waves glinting like the sheen in someone’s smile.

There was a little shadow against the waves- Someone on the edge of the beach, lying down against it. I smiled, wondering exactly how the dead could seem so peaceful.

The door slid quietly open like a ghost, and I nearly gasped at the way the breeze and the waves so beautifully orchestrated together, a quiet melody against my ears. The sights, the sounds… The feeling of the sand against my feet as I walked over to the shadow against the waves. It was all just… To surreal. Like a dream, like that tender bliss when you’re lost in words or lines, feeling each passing step taking you further and further into a euphoria….

Rantaro’s messy avocado-colored hair was more like the deep color of leaves in the lighting, as he lounged, eyes closed skyward- Legs stuck in the tides as they rhythmically lapped higher and lower.

I sat next to him… Just in silence, for a while, quiet as I could, not wanting to disturb a moment so peaceful….

“Didn’t take you as much of a beachgoer.” His eyes were still closed, but he had on just a tiny bit of a grin.

“Well, when in rome, you know... “ I laughed. “But you’re right. I must’ve only gone when I had to… Family stuff, you know. I did play a couple times beachfront. At a couple of weddings, and- They once even had the audacity to want me to literally play on the beach!” For the moment I was lost, in just the past… Maybe wishing I was there again. “I couldn’t do it, you know. Can you imagine the damage to the instrument? From just the air, or… Sand… Plus, somebody would have to carry it out there ...”

“Eh, I think it’d be worth it for the moment. Things like that are worth a little pain, right? Not just for them, but you. I’m no musician, but that’s something you don’t do often.”

I relaxed a bit, laying down beside him, realizing just how full the sky of stars all the way out here… Wherever “Here” even was. A thousand little notes, little drops of paint. Vast swathes of canvas painted by the tiniest touches of ink. How careful, how dedicated the gods must be…

“I don’t do it often because it’s ridiculous.” I corrected, reaching out a hand- Almost to try and grasp at the little twinkling eyes in the sky. “A piano might just be an object, but… Well, it’s not just that. Maybe I'm not like other musicians because I can’t always play on the same instrument, I don’t have that same… Bond. But everyone is different, you know? You start to get this feeling, a sixth sense...  The way each key has its own little pressures, how each note sounds just a little different- How it feels to sit there, how it feels to play! It’s the best with the old ones, where the story behind them is as rich as any novel, if you care to look for it. But even with the newer ones, there’s still so much life behind them- I’m glad I don’t always play with one piano, because that thought… That feeling that you’re not the first, not the last… That you can almost feel the memory, the spirit of every pianist before you… All their notes, all their worries and anxieties.”

Rantaro gave the most genuine smile I had seen from him yet- For someone usually so stoic, this was a rare treat, like a flower that blooms once a year. “Now I can see why they call you “Piano Freak”. I never knew that side of the story.”

I blushed a little, letting my hand fall back to my side. “I don’t reject that nickname for a reason, you know: it’s true! It’s… Well, it’s my life. The song I always hear… In everything. In nature, in civilization… In the trees and the cars, in the strings and the cards. Is it the voice of god? Of fate? ...I… Don’t know. And I never will. But I'm the one who hears it! And… And I shouldn’t be. Everyone should hear it, and that’s why I play. I play… I play because everyone, everyone can’t hear it. Because everyone is just stuck in those ruts, lost in the monotony of it all- They never know the beauty, the bliss beneath it all. All you have to do is listen!”

Rantaro finally sat up, as did I, and we finally spoke- Face to face. I could hardly see his eyes in the dim- I could only see the passive spark of his life in them, like candles flickering in the wind.

“It’s not our place to: it’s yours. Everyone has their song, right? The thing that speaks to them. The best I got of music was country music over the radio, or pop in the back of a convenience store- It was nice, but it was never… Enough. Just there, right? I never understood it till I found it with a part of my other passion… When music gets played for the masses, there’s something lost in it: at least for me. I could never hear anything like what you’re talking about until I heard it in the guitar strum of a street performer on the side of the road, playing for his life, for his future… I heard it in crowded streets in Asia and India, in the music those folk artists played just for me. I heard in my sister’s voice, when she sang to me atop a waterfall in Iceland… Kaede, I don’t hear your song very often. To me, all I ever want to do is see a little more… Live a little more. I think you could  be content to just play and play, so long as you reached out to different people… But the world fades to me so fast. I have to see more, do more ...” He gave a longing stare to the sky, then glanced back to me. “But that’s why we’re ultimates, right? It’s not because of talent… Alright, maybe a little bit. But the only reason we were ever able to get that talent is because we’re so invested, because our souls are so shackled to something so specific. It’s why I’m the explorer: and you’re the Pianist.”

I mulled over his words for a bid, idly digging my fingers into the sand. “Then… Then you’ve never been to a concert?” I asked, a bit confused.

“Not anything like you’re thinking of.” He shrugged. “I had a lot of chances, but it was never my style. When you’re stuck in a hall with so many people… Does the music mean anything anymore?”

I gasped. “I… Of course it does! It’s not about who it’s being played to- It’s not like music needs a name signed to it like a love letter. It’s for everyone! As long as you can hear it ...”

He shook his head. “I just don’t see it that way, keys-for-brains.”

“Okay, well…” I pondered, crossing my arms over each other. “You have to… You can’t just not get that experience! I… Look, if you don’t want to go to one with a ton of people, then… I’ll just play one for you! One on one.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do! For all you’re doing for me, the least I can do is this! And… Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe it’ll help us get to know each other a bit more. Help you… Help me? I… Need this, Rantaro. I need to make up for what I did.”

His expression suddenly grew a bit grim, only shadowed heavier by the darkness, before he shook it off and sighed. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Kaede… I told you. And from what you’ve just said… I think your song is worth a whole lot more than you think it is. Worth more than someone who might not appreciate all of it, like me.” He stood, glancing down at me. “But… Hey. I’ll do it. But on one condition: if I tell you to play for someone else… You’ll do it, alright? No objections.”

I blinked a couple times, thoroughly confused. “I…. Alright?” He offered his hand down to me, and I took it… Stumbling just a bit as I felt my knees buckle.

“Woah, there. I’ve got you.” He let me lean against him, as we walked back to the beach house.

“Hey… “ I started, finally remembering something. “Since when are you the “Ultimate Explorer?” I thought you didn’t know anything!”

He laughed. “Turns out everything becomes a lot clearer whenever you don’t feel like you need to fend for your life. It wasn’t that hard, really: All of this stuff was so important to me, I couldn’t have gone long without it. Can you imagine life without what makes you whole?”

I thought over it for a moment. “...Yeah, no. I… Guess you’re right. I’d like to think, that… Even in another life, I'd still be doing the same thing. And… Hey! You said you weren’t a musician, but I heard you! When we first woke up…”

He shook his head. “Oh, that little old routine? Kaede, that was nothing. Like I said, compared to anything Ibuki, you or Maki could do… I was just an amateur. I just wanted you to feel comfortable, is all.”

I pouted slightly. “Well, you certainly succeeded- And I didn’t think it was shoddy at all. And… What’s this about MakI?”   
  
He laughed. “Let’s wait a bit on that, alright? Let’s get inside…. I’m sure Mikan is already worried about where you went.”

I think I know just a little more about the poor soul I doomed… And the one who is so stubborn as to not admit that I did. But… Who was that other song for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm enjoying writing for the perspectives of the ultimates so much- I love thinking about what drives someone to be so dedicated, so passionate to one particular thing- And I think I did well enough for Kaede. This fic is such a great break from my other, more morbid ones- Like sleeping dead or smoke and mirrors, along with passerby, since it lets me be pretty wholesome! (At least for now) Although the group of people who read this fic is pretty small, I hope you all enjoy this new chapter!
> 
> If you happen to read any of my other fics, the new sleeping dead chapter is coming soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, finally got to adding notes.
> 
> Like it's said above, this will be Kaemugi, which is an... Unpopular ship, for a number of very good, very understandable reasons. Still, I'm a huge fan of shipping opposites- And the two actually have quite a lot in common. It'll take a while, and the fact that Tsumugi isn't even here at the beginning will probably tell you ship stuff won't exactly be the priority.
> 
> I struggled a bit on trying to get Rantaro in-character... It's a bit hard to tell what's even in-character, considering he has reasonably less dialogue than everyone else, but I think I hit it on the head pretty well. Kaede... Was a little harder. We don't see her in this grieving state for too long, so I had to make a few assumptions- But I'm liking how its turning out so far, especially a lot of the symbolism and setup.
> 
> Seems this will definitely be less popular than Sleeping dead, which is pretty understandable- And if you're a sleeping dead reader, don't worry- this is in no way a replacement.
> 
> Alright, quick story about why this was reuploaded: I write between a notebook and a doc file, depending on where I am. Sometimes stuff like this happens, and I forget to draft part of the notebook into the doc file... I usually catch it, but not this time. I was missing a pretty crucial piece about Kaede's reaction to Rantaro and such, so I decided to reupload to get a... Fresh start, I suppose? Idunno.


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